


Reading Between the Lines

by elliex



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Apocalypse, Bobby Ships Dean and Castiel (Implied), Bobby looks out for Sam and Dean, Brothers, Family Relationships - Freeform, Ghost!Bobby, Idgits, Leviathans, Suggested Dean and Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 16:09:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliex/pseuds/elliex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've been rewatching the series and got caught up in scenes in 6.20, 6.22, 7.01, and 7.02 between Bobby, Dean, Castiel, and Sam - this fic is the result. Spoilers abound here. (Also, spoilers for 7.09, 7.10, 7.17.)</p><p>There's a scene in particular in 6.22 when Dean is pleading with Cas/Godstiel and Bobby is looking back and forth between them. The look on Bobby's face is interesting, and I was trying to work out whether Bobby's eyes are shiny because he's afraid or because he's so damn proud of Dean for expressing himself.  </p><p>In my head canon, it's the latter, and this story is my attempt to work all of that out. (Especially since Dean's "expressing" means Bobby starts to see the Dean/Cas relationship differently.) I hope that I caught Bobby's voice well enough to make the "extra bits" work. My apologies for anything that <i>doesn't</i> work. Also, constructive feedback's welcome - I'd love to know what others read into Bobby's reactions/intuitions!</p><p>Note: Supernatural belongs to the CW, Kripke, et. al.   </p><p>"I'm all out of Love" by Air Supply</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reading Between the Lines

++++++

Bobby regained consciousness right as Crowley’s spell fell flat.

“Maybe I said it wrong,” Crowley said to Raphael, a note of puzzlement in his voice.

_You said it perfectly._

That gravelly voice -- Castiel. So. They had been too late after all.

“I see. And we’ve been working with – dog blood. Naturally.” 

“Enough of these games, Castiel. Give us the blood,” spoke Raphael.

“Game’s over. His jar’s empty -- So, Castiel, how’d your ritual go? Better than ours I bet.” Bobby could tell that Crowley was assessing the game board; the smarmy bastard could always be counted on for putting himself first.

A blinding light emanated from Castiel. Bobby closed his eyes against its brightness. He opened them again to see the smuggest of all smug smiles on Castiel’s face. 

Bobby’s stomach clenched. This was bad, real bad.

_You can’t imagine what it’s like. They’re all inside me. Millions upon millions of souls._

“Sounds sexy. Exit Stage Crowley.” And poof went the demon. No surprise there. Bobby found himself wishing he and Dean could go poof too.

_Now, what’s the matter, Raphael? Somebody clip your wings?_

“Castiel, please. You let the demon go? But not your own brother?” Considering that moments before Raphael had shown Cas little mercy, Bobby knew this wasn’t going to go well, but even he was surprised.

_The Demon I have plans for. You, on the other hand –“_

Castiel snapped his fingers, exploding Raphael. Bobby wondered if Cas saw the irony, considering it was the same way that Michael and then Lucifer had smote him.

Gore splattered the wall. The percussion of the explosion stunned Bobby. He looked over at Dean, who was so shocked his mouth hung open. Dean Winchester speechless -- the kid who had taunted every supernatural being he’d ever encountered, including Satan himself. Bobby knew then that however much trouble he thought they were in, it was actually even worse. 

Castiel looked straight at Dean. His gaze was different – this wasn’t the Castiel who had drank Bobby’s tequila and posed in the group photo the night before Ellen and Jo’s world ended.

Bobby wanted to reach out and grab Dean and haul ass out of that laboratory, away from this being that had swallowed all of Purgatory and now stood staring at Dean as if he were a bug wriggling on its pin in a live-specimen collection. 

Yet Cas was the bastard with wings, not Dean, Bobby thought bitterly. 

Even if they could have zapped away, Bobby knew that Dean wouldn’t leave Castiel. The boy had been tied to the angel since he’d been gripped tight and raised from Perdition. Even when Bobby and Sam had been certain that Cas had gone dark side, Dean had held onto the last shred of belief with every fiber of his being. 

_So, you see, I saved you._

“Sure thing, Cas. Thank you.” The tone of Dean’s voice pulled at Bobby. The boy kept a nonthreatening pose, his head ducked, his eyes calm. 

_You doubted me, fought against me, but I was right all along._

Bobby watched Castiel carefully, measuring his reactions – or lack thereof. This wasn’t the angel that held entire conversations with Dean solely through eye contact. This being was a stranger. 

“Okay, Cas. You were. We’re sorry. Now let’s just defuse you, okay?” Dean was using his reasonable voice. Bobby was pretty sure Castiel was past reason, but it’s not like they had another path at the moment. 

_What do you mean?_

“You’re full of nuke. It’s not safe. So before the eclipse ends, let’s get them souls back to where they belong.”

_Oh no, they belong with me._

“No, Cas, it’s –it’s scrambling your brain.” 

_Oh, I’m not finished yet. Raphael had many followers, and I must… punish them all severely._

Castiel’s calm unnerved Bobby. He looked at Dean, but the boy didn’t make eye contact with him. Instead, he moved closer to Castiel. 

Bobby wondered what the hell Dean was doing. They needed to be getting as far away from the crazy trenchcoated sonofabitch as possible, not sidling up closer. 

Was Dean working his way towards Cas to try and kill him? Bobby was pretty sure a move like that would wind up with Dean splattered across the room, adding to the rorshach of Raphael’s innards.

The old hunter didn’t want to see that, and he caught himself sending a silent prayer but stopped himself – who the hell would he pray to anyway?

Dean faced Castiel now. Bobby couldn’t see Dean’s face, but he knew the boy was looking Cas straight in the eye. That’s the kind of man he was. 

Still, Bobby swallowed hard, fear flooding his body, his aged muscles tense. He wondered if this was the end, and if it was, why wasn’t his life flashing before his eyes?

Hell, maybe it just hadn’t been that much of a life, he thought. 

He braced himself for Dean’s attack – only it didn’t come. The boy was talking to Castiel. Dean shoot-first-ask-questions-later-Winchester was using his words. Any other day, Bobby would have been freaking thrilled. 

Right now, though, he figured Dean was signing their death warrant. Had the kid gone barmy from being thrown across the room? 

“Listen to me. Listen – I know there’s a lot of bad water under the bridge. But we were family once. I’d have died for you – Almost did a few times.” 

Bobby could hear Dean clearly, and he looked back and forth between the boy he’d helped raise and the angel. Bobby had the sense to be afraid, but that wasn’t why his eyes were shiny. 

Dean’s next words gave the old hunter one of the shocks of his ornery life: 

“So if that means anything to you, please. I’ve lost Lisa, I’ve lost Ben, and now I’ve lost Sam.” Dean paused. “Don’t make me lose you too.” 

Bobby wondered for a moment if he was hallucinating. 

Bobby could hear the emotion in Dean’s voice, the pleading palpable, his voice rough and throaty—like when he was seven years old and Bobby made him explain the finger marks on his arm. John had lost his temper after Sam had fallen and cracked his arm on Dean’s watch. Bobby had seen red and wanted to beat John himself, prompting just one of their many fights over the boys. 

The next time Dean disappointed his father, he didn’t cry. Bobby watched as the kid just pushed down those feelings and learned to mold himself in John’s shape. 

The first time Bobby watched that firsthand, he’d had to quickly leave the room “for a beer,” he’d said. That he’d had to pause in front of the open refrigerator and wipe his eyes—well, that he kept to himself. Based on his own childhood, Bobby knew that Dean had to reach his breaking point with John on his own. Bobby couldn’t lead him there. 

When the day came that he was finally able to tell the boy “You’re a better man than your daddy ever was,” he’d felt a burst of relief that bordered damn near on the maniacal. Even if he had been mad as hell when he’d said it. 

Watching Dean standing in front of the angel, pleading with him on the basis of love and family, Bobby was reminded once more of just how proud he was of Dean. He wasn’t entirely sure that Dean knew what he was saying, just that – for once – the boy was saying how he really and truly felt the best way he knew how.

That alone was a miracle, though Bobby doubted that anything else going on here was truly divine. He looked back and forth at the hunter and the angel, measuring Castiel’s response, Dean’s. 

Cas dropped his eyes, and for a moment, Bobby thought Dean was getting through to him. But he wasn’t sure. He watched carefully, afraid of what Cas might do, worried for how this was going to affect Dean – if it didn’t kill him, that is.

“You don’t need this kind of juice anymore, Cas. Get rid of it before it kills us all.” 

When Cas raised his eyes to Dean’s, Bobby knew it was over.

_You’re just saying that because I won. Because you’re afraid._

It was all going to end here, in a gore-splattered lab with a Purgatory-swollen angel. 

Bobby thought he was hallucinating when the door behind Cas quietly opened. When Sam slipped into the room, his heart caught. He wondered how the hell Sam had gotten vertical, let alone gotten to the lab. Bobby realized that the kid must have driven here and wondered about that too. He made a note to ask Sam – if they all survived, that is. 

Bobby carefully kept his gaze on Cas and Dean, not wanting to give Sam away. 

Castiel stepped closer to Dean. Bobby forgot how to breathe. These boys were going to be the death of him. 

_You’re not my family, Dean. I have no family._

Later, Bobby would wonder if Dean had realized Sam was there, if part of his pleading had been for dramatic effect. 

He didn’t think so, though he never had the nerve to ask. 

Because when Sam plunged that angel blade through Castiel, and Dean pulled back enough that Bobby could clearly see the horror etching his face – well, Bobby wasn’t sure what had horrified Dean more: the sight of the blade sticking out of Castiel’s chest or that Sam had been the one to put it there. 

When Castiel didn’t die, when he didn’t fill with light and burn out, when he reached behind himself and pulled the damn blade out…Bobby was pretty sure all the humans in the room had the same expression: utterly gobsmacked.

_I’m glad you made it, Sam._

_But the angel blade won’t work because I’m not an angel anymore._

_I’m your new god. A better one. So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your lord or I shall destroy you._

Bobby exchanged looks with Sam and Dean. The fear in the room was suffocating. This was not their Castiel; this was a monster – one that none of them had the first clue how to kill. 

This moment was also a mirror image of the scene in that warded barn all those years ago, of what happened after Bobby had lost consciousness. Dean's fear and uncertainty written on his face, the awe and intimidation resounding in Cas's stance… only this time, his wings were missing. 

Dean noticed this parallel, but Bobby didn’t. 

Bobby didn’t know anything about that. 

+

What Bobby did know had hit him and Sam about the same time a few weeks ago: This Cas wasn’t their Cas. Getting Dean to even consider the possibility had been damn near impossible. 

It was only when deception dripped directly from the angel’s lips that Dean accepted the truth. 

When they left Cas standing in the ring of holy fire, racing to outrun the demon fight Crowley was bringing, Bobby hadn’t missed that Dean left the cabin last. He also hadn’t overlooked how the boy’s eyes glistened in the firelight as he pled with his friend to fix this. 

_It’s not broken, Dean._

On the drive back to the salvage yard, Dean subtly – but not subtly enough to escape Bobby and Sam’s concerned attention – wiped at his eyes.

Neither brought it up. What would they have said, anyway?

+

Godstiel stared coldly at Bobby and Dean. 

“Well, alright then,” Bobby said, sinking to his knees. “This good or do you want the whole forehead to the carpet thing.”

Neither Sam nor Dean was moving. 

“Guys,” Bobby said to them, injecting a warning into his tone. This time, they listened. But mid-kneel, their new god voiced another command. 

_Stop._

The boys stopped.

_What’s the point if you don’t mean it? You fear me. Not love, not respect, just fear._

“Cas?,” Sam asked.

_Sam, you have nothing to say to me. You stabbed me in the back._

_Get up._

Bobby listened to Godstiel’s command.

“Cas, come on. This is not you,” Dean pleaded. 

_The Castiel you knew is gone._

“So what then? Kill us?,” Dean asked.

 _What a brave little ant you are._ Dean looked affronted. _You know you’re powerless. You wouldn’t dare move against me again. That would be pointless. So I have no need to kill you. Not now._

Godstiel paused.

_Besides, once you were my favorite pets before you turned and bit me._

“Who are you?” Dean asked. Bobby realized that the boy was finally accepting the truth. 

_I’m God. And if you stay in your place you may live in my kingdom. If you rise up, I will strike you down._

Godstiel turned to the youngest Winchester. 

_Not doing so well, are you, Sam?_

“I’m fine,” Sam said, clearing his throat. “I’m fine.”

“You said you would fix him. You promised,” Dean said. Bobby could hear the anger and frustration in Dean’s voice. He hoped Godstiel didn’t. 

_If you stood down, which you hardly did. Be thankful for my mercy._

Godstiel looked directly at Sam. _I could have cast you back in the pit._

If nothing that had happened previously had done it, Godstiel’s threat against Sam alone should have brought Dean up short. Made him abandon all loyalty to the former angel immediately. 

“Cas, come on, this is nuts. You can turn this around. Please.” 

When Bobby heard that last plea – and he’d lost count of how many pleas he’d heard from Dean in the past hour or so – he knew. He guessed he’d known for longer, years even, but just hadn’t fully processed it. 

_I hope for your sake this is the last you see me._

Godstiel disappeared. It was still sinking in when Sam fell. 

Bobby had the suspicion that if Sam hadn’t been so sick, so consumed with hellucinations, that it would have been Dean needing carrying. For once, he thanked the deep-seated nurturing instinct that John had driven into his oldest. It gave Dean focus when otherwise he might have broken apart. 

+

The blood and fear left in Godstiel’s wake was incomprehensible. Every report brought more bad news. 

Bobby thought Dean was handling it rather well, Sam too. The boys worked on the car all the time. Dean was determined to make her “mint.”

One night, Bobby had heard them talking --

“He’s not a guy. He’s God, and he’s pissed. And when God gets righteous, you get the hell out of the way. Haven’t you read the bible?,” Dean asked. 

“I guess,” Sam said.

“Cas is never coming back. He lied to us. He used us. He cracked your gourd like it was nothing. No more talk. We have spent enough on him.”

“Okay.” Bobby knew from his tone that Sam didn't agree but was tempering Dean's ire. 

“Hand me that socket wrench,” Dean ordered, and back to work they went. 

Bobby walked back to the house unnoticed by the brothers. He suspected that Dean was protesting too much and felt certain that, given a real chance, Dean would spend more on Cas. 

The interesting thing was that Sam obviously knew it too. Bobby wondered what else the youngest Winchester knew. 

+

The body count kept climbing – Madison Square Garden, religious figures, motivational speakers, the Ku Klux Klan. 

It wasn’t long before they had to talk seriously about taking out the new God. 

That was when they called Death. It was Dean’s idea. 

They all clung to the plan. It had to work. They had no other options.

And it did save them. When Godstiel wanted to smite them, Dean pointed out, “Death is our bitch.”

Bobby had cringed inwardly at that –- trust Dean to taunt Death after binding the most powerful force in the universe against his will.

“Annoying little protozoa, aren’t they?” Death asked the mutated angel. 

Death didn’t kill the new God, but his words – maybe Dean’s too, Bobby thought – resonated. After a particularly brutal rampage in a politician’s office, Castiel appeared in Bobby’s house, asking for help. 

Bobby didn’t know Sam had called Cas until well after the fact. 

He wondered at that. After all, it was Sam’s gourd that Cas had broken. 

Bobby noticed Dean’s renewed spirit after Castiel appeared. He was sure it hadn’t escaped Sam’s notice either. 

He wondered at that, too.

+

Back in the lab, awaiting Death’s special-order eclipse, Bobby listened to what he expected was Dean’s last conversation with Cas. 

_Dean_

“What? You need something else?,” Dean asked. Bobby heard the tone of underlying concern that Dean couldn’t quite stamp out, even after all that had happened. 

_No. I feel regret – about you and what I did to Sam._

“Well, you should.” Now that was the take-no-bullshit Dean whom Bobby knew.

_If there was time – if I was strong enough – I’d fix him now. I just wanted to make amends before I died._

“Okay.”

_Is it working?_

“Does it make you feel better?”

_No. You?_

“Not a bit.”

Bobby stepped away. He couldn’t listen anymore. What had happened couldn’t be made right, and even if it could, there wasn’t time for anyone to try. 

+

The minutes ticked by. Bobby checked the position of the moon. He looked over at Castiel who sat in the floor, leaning against an old piece of furniture. He looked broken, defeated. Bobby couldn’t help himself. Despite the fact that the thousands-years-old angel had killed Ellie, hurt Sam, and threatened to smite all of them, when he looked at Cas, he saw a guy only a little older than Dean. One who’d sat at his house and conspired to overthrow the apocalypse, who’d saved Dean from sacrificing himself to Michael, who’d brought Bobby back from the dead. 

He walked past Cas and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Hang in there,” he said gruffly. “Just a couple of minutes.” 

+

It was time for the spell. Bobby and Dean got Cas into position. Dean had to help prop him up. 

The angel looked back at Dean. 

_I’m sorry, Dean._

Bobby saw the look on Dean’s face, the resignation and sorrow on Cas’s. He pretended that he didn’t. He read the spell. 

The souls left Castiel, and his vessel slumped to the floor. Bobby and Dean knelt beside him. 

Bobby laid a hand to Cas’s neck. “He’s cold,” he said to Dean.

“Is he breathing?”

“No.”

“Maybe angels don’t need to breathe.” Dean’s voice was plaintive, tinged with hope. 

“He’s gone, Dean,” Bobby said heavily.

Bobby couldn’t bring himself to look at Dean. They sat there for a moment, looking down at the bloodied body.

“Dammit,” Dean muttered. He stood; Bobby did too. 

“Cas, you child. Why didn’t you listen to me?” Dean said.

And just when Bobby thought it was all over, Castiel’s body repaired itself before their very eyes.

“Cas?!,” Dean said. “Hey – Hey!” Dean reached to help Cas, and Bobby did too.

_That was unpleasant._

“Let’s get him up,” Bobby said to Dean.

 _I’m alive._ There was true awe in Cas’s voice.

“Looks like,” Bobby said. He thought to himself that this even further proof that there was more to Cas than met the eye – what that meant, he didn’t know.

_I’m astonished. Thank you, both of you._

“We were mostly just trying to save the world,” Bobby clarified. He didn’t particularly want to rip the angel’s wings off, but he also didn’t want any misunderstandings. 

_I’m ashamed. I really overreached._

“You think?,” Dean said.

Castiel looked at Dean – one of those long looks that had a habit of making others slightly uncomfortable. 

_I’ll find someway to redeem myself to you._

“Alright, well, one thing at a time. Come on - Let’s get you out of here. Come on.” Dean said, brushing it off. 

_I mean it Dean._

“Okay, alright. But let’s go find Sam, okay?”

Bobby had whiplash from the past hour’s events. It seemed surreal that they’d succeeded and that they got Cas back and that Dean seemed hopeful – not only that his friend was okay but that his friend could heal his brother (nevermind that it was his friend who broke his brother to start with).

Suddenly, Cas pushed both Dean and Bobby away, towards the door. 

_You need to run now._

Bobby heard the panic in Castiel’s voice, and he knew that the “other shoe,” as Dean liked to say, was dropping.

_I can’t hold them back._

“Hold who back?” Dean asked.

_They held on inside me. Dean – They’re so strong!_

“Who the hell?,” Bobby asked, completely at a loss for what was going on.

_Leviathan!_

Bobby and Dean shared a panicked look. Castiel yelled again for them to run, and Dean pushed Bobby towards the door, to go get Sam. 

But before Bobby could make it across the threshold, the energy in the room changed. Cas was no longer Cas – now, he was Leviathan. A mocking monster who taunted Dean that Castiel was gone, dead. 

_We run the show now._

Bobby saw Dean hurled across the room before he felt the supernaturally strong hands on his own body and felt himself being flung through the air. There was a part of Bobby grateful for the blackness that enveloped him – his bones were too old for this.

+

When Bobby’s consciousness worked its way to the surface again, Dean was talking to the Levianthans in Castiel’s body, asking how many were in there. And trust Dean to taunt the monster that its vessel was about to explode. 

The boy was right, though, and Bobby watched the black liquid oozing from Castiel’s vessel with trepidation. 

The monster looked right at Dean, marking him with its stare.

_We’ll be back – for you._

And it—they?—stumbled out of the room.

“Well, this is a new one.” Bobby quipped, uncertain of what else to say.

He and Dean found Sam and got out of the lab, following Castiel’s trail to the municipal watershed. They got there as the Leviathans reached the middle of the lake and went under. A black whirlpool opened at the spot. 

“Aw, hell,” Bobby said, watching an underwater explosion of black that reminded him of the demon cloud that attacked on the night Cas swallowed the souls.

“Dammit,” Dean said.

“You said it,” Bobby said. “Those whatever you call ‘ems—

“Leviathan,” Sam interjected.

“—Right. If they’re in the pipes, they got themselves a highway to anywhere,” Bobby finished.

“Awesome,” Dean said.

Cas’s trenchcoat surfaced near the edge of the water, right at Dean’s feet. He fished it out of the water and held it in the air. Water sluiced down its folds, pooling on the ground.

The moment felt ceremonial to Bobby, commemorative. A glance at Sam suggested strongly that the youngest Winchester felt the same way. 

“Okay,” Dean said. “So he’s gone.”

“Yep. Rest in peace, if that’s in the cards,” Bobby said somberly. He watched as Dean carefully folded the coat. It reminded him of the flag-folding ceremonies at the funerals of fallen soldiers.

“Dumb sonofabitch,” Dean said, his voice thick with emotion.

“Well, he was friends with us, wasn’t he? You can’t get much dumber than that,” Bobby said. “Come on. Those things’ll be coming’ up for air soon.”

Bobby led the way out of the gate and to the car. Dean followed, carrying the coat. Sam, still weak from the hellucination that had hit him shortly before the eclipse, stumbled after.

+

A couple of days later, back at Bobby’s house, the older hunter finally found a moment to speak with Dean. He was worrying about his brother, per usual. It was especially warranted worry, considering Sam had told them earlier in the day that Lucifer himself was talking to him now.

Bobby watched the furrow between Dean’s eyes deepen in consternation. He wondered how much more the boy could take. 

He finally got Dean to talk, though Dean did not want to address how he was doing.

“Who cares? Don’t you think our mailbox is a little full right now? I’m fine,” Dean said.

“Right And weren’t you pissed at him when he said the same thing just a couple hours before he spilled his marbles all over the floor?,” Bobby countered.

“Yeah, well. I’m not Sam. I keep my marbles in a lead freaking box. I’m fine. Really,” Dean said.

“Of course,” Bobby said. “You just lost one of the best friends you ever had, your brother’s in the bell jar, and purgatory’s most wanted are surfing the sewer lines, but yeah, yeah, I get it. Right. You’re fine.”

“Good.”

Bobby remained leaning against the counter. He saw the set of Dean’s jaw and watched as he sat back down and went back to work. Sometimes, he really wanted to smack the idgit upside the head. 

“Course, if at any time you want to decide that’s utter horse crap, I’ll be where I always am – right here,” Bobby said.

He knew he’d gotten through to Dean when the boy delivered one of his classic smart-ass quips: 

“What? You wanna do couples yoga or you want to get back to hunting the big bads?”

“Shut up,” Bobby retorted. The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Idjit.”

The underlying warmth of Dean’s tone reassured Bobby. So long as Dean had a focus, somewhere to direct his emotions, he would make it. 

At the moment, that focus was two pronged: gluing Sam back together and hunting down the Leviathans.

It would have to be enough. For now, anyway.

+

Bobby remembered dying. He agreed with Castiel – it was unpleasant. 

He had consciously chosen to not go with his reaper, unwilling to leave the boys in the middle of the fight of their lives, a fight that would literally determine the fate of mankind. 

He hadn’t known he was still with the world for weeks, and when he did figure out that he was, in fact, a ghost, it had taken even longer before he could make his presence known.

And even then, the boys hadn’t clued in to what was going on. Once again, Bobby found himself wondering how the idgits had survived all that they had. 

He’d been aware when Sam’s reality crumbled. He’d known of Dean’s distress and frantic calling of every contact in Bobby’s journal. 

It reminded him of the rumored healer he’d planned to follow up on before Dick shot him in the melon. After hearing the guy’s description, Bobby had wondered if the recently discovered healer could, in fact, be Castiel. 

He couldn’t understand why Cas wouldn’t have come straight back to Dean, though, and Bobby wasn’t about to get either boy’s hopes up without proof. Not with the year they’d had. So he’d been careful during his preliminary investigation – no notes, no overheard phone calls, nothing to tip them off that there was even the slightest of miraculous chances that Castiel was back. 

And then Dick had shot him and that had been that. 

Bobby mustered every ounce of energy he had at his disposal and knocked Mackey’s Taxidermy card onto the floor. Dean took it for the sign it was and called. Bobby’s awareness blipped out during Mackey’s return call, but he heard enough to know that this healer really might be able to help Sam. 

When Bobby regained awareness, Cas and Dean were standing in Sam’s hospital room. The boy looked like hell. Cas and Dean didn’t look much better. And Cas was wearing that bloodied, stained trenchcoat. 

Well, I’ll be damned, Bobby thought. The kid kept that coat this whole time. Looks like I was right after all. 

The two were talking – neither looked at peace with what was being said. Bobby figured he must have exhausted himself because they sounded like they were in a faraway tunnel, but he caught just enough to figure out what Cas was going to do.

Cas sat on Sam’s bed and looked back at Dean. 

_It’s better this way._

Dean looked at Cas blankly, clearly not understanding what was about to happen. Idgit, Bobby thought. 

_I’ll be fine._

“Hey Cas – what are you doing?,” Dean asked, a note of alarm in his voice.

Cas didn’t answer Dean, simply placed his hand on Sam’s head and spoke to the youngest Winchester whose mind he’d helped fracture into splinters and shards.

_And if I can’t tell you again – I’m sorry I ever did this to you._

Bobby couldn’t help thinking that the apology could also have been directed towards Dean, who watched as a flood of red energy poured from Sam into Cas. 

Dean ran to Sam’s side and looked with shock at Cas. Sam was conscious and coherent and both brothers watched as Cas recoiled from the bed, obviously no longer in his right mind. 

+

Even in his own fractured state of awareness, Bobby knew that this situation was complicated. He recognized that Cas sacrificing his own sanity to fix what he’d done to Sam would clear that slate with Dean – and he recognized that, if Cas ever came back to himself, the two men needed to have a serious talk. 

After all, Bobby had never seen Dean exhibit such loyalty for anyone in his life outside of Sam. That told Bobby volumes that he should have been able to read years ago.

He heard fragments of the boys’ conversation as they left the hospital and left Cas behind. Sam protested while Dean reassured. 

“…we can’t bring him with us,” Dean was saying. “Everything on the planet is out for us, okay? Word gets out, we can’t protect him. Not really. This is safer. Every demon that knows about Cas is dead.”

Bobby had expected Sam to want to protect Cas; it was in line with his nature. Dean could be more of a powderkeg, and Bobby hadn’t been sure how long Dean’s rage would burn before he gave into the other emotions he had pushed to the bottom of that lead box. 

That Dean could articulate the desire to protect Cas, and articulate that desire to Sam – the very one whose head Cas cracked – well, that was significant. 

“Not every one,” Sam reminded him. “Look, Dean, this whole enemy of my enemy is my friend thing feels kind of like a demon deal.”

“It’s not a deal, it’s –“

“It’s what?”

“Mutually assured destruction.” Dean paused. “Look man, I get it. She’s not our friend. We don’t even have friends. All our friends are dead.”

Sam looked away and then back, nodding reluctantly; both got into the car. 

Bobby, who was getting into the back seat, wanted to thwack Dean Winchester in the head right then. All of their friends weren’t dead – they were just… incapacitated. Fittingly, Bobby lost awareness just as the Impala pulled onto the highway. 

He came to some hours later and knew as soon as he woke that he didn’t have long. His energy was still too low. A quick survey of the Winchesters told him all he needed to know for now: 

Dean was singing softly – actually singing – to an 80s song about being all out of love. Sam was asleep, hunched down in the seat, head against the cold window. 

Unconsciously, Dean rubbed his upper left arm, where Castiel’s handprint had seared his flesh. 

And it was either a trick of the light or the boy’s eyes were shining with unshed tears. Bobby didn't think it was the light.

When Sam started snoring, Dean didn’t punch him in the arm like he usually did (and like Sam always did the same when Dean snored). Instead, he gave his brother a fond look before reaching over and turning off the radio. 

Dean was singing under his breath and the Impala was continuing to eat the highway when Bobby felt his awareness begin to fade. 

He froze the sight of the boys in his mind, knowing that he was living for moments like this, and they were damned too few and far between. 

The only thing missing was Dean’s angel, but Bobby had a feeling that Cas would find his way back to Dean’s side – or vice versa – sooner than later. 

And with that thought, he faded out. 

+

Dean thought he saw movement in his peripheral vision, but when he turned his head, there was nothing. 

“Huh,” he said, tapping the steering wheel thoughtfully. He made a mental note to get out the EMF reader at their next stop. He cracked the window to let in the cool evening air.

About ten miles down the road, Dean realized that he was still humming that song – he quickly glanced sideways at Sam and saw that his little brother was still sound asleep. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, Dean thought, and continued to softly sing: 

_I want you to come back and carry me home_

_Away from these long, lonely nights_

_I’m reaching for you, are you feeling it too?_

_Does the feeling seem oh, so right?_

+

What Dean didn’t know – or Bobby either, for that matter – was that Sam had woken up about a few miles back. He had stayed still at first, knowing that Dean must be feeling pretty good because he was singing, and while Sam would never admit it, he enjoyed hearing Dean sing. 

When he realized _what_ Dean was singing – well, Sam wasn’t an idiot. He knew that his brother was freaking thrilled to have him _compos mentis_. He also knew that his brother was freaking thrilled that Cas was alive in ways that Dean couldn't suss out yet.

Sam stayed still and kept his eyes shut, letting himself drift back off to sleep. It was the least he could do for his big brother.

+


End file.
